Just a girl

One of the trickiest things to negotiate is gender roles, and that goes for anywhere in the world, but especially in Afghanistan.

I work with the most darling young Afghan girl, M. She’s clever, speaks self-taught English with panache, has a sparkle in her eye and a very generous soul. When I first visited Faizabad I was immediately swept away to her family’s home and introduced to the whole bevy of sisters. We sat around the sandali, a low table covered with a thick quilt underneath which a pit containing hot coals works wonders warming icy feet, drank sabs chai (green tea with a hint of cardamom), ate nockle (candied almonds) and laughed. It was one of the best of many home visits I’ve had, mostly because I got such a kick out of watching little M, the second youngest in a typically large Afghan family, bossing everyone around. Other than her father, she’s the only one who works. It’s really remarkable. As is well documented, women were absolutely forbidden to work during the Taliban regime. Now it’s allowed by law but still a cultural taboo. It makes sense since women and men never ever mix, so unless you’re a single sex organisation…tricky.
It filled my heart with hope to see this lithe young woman full of hutspa.

Then she got engaged. To a coworker. Meeting someone to marry is obviously slightly impossible since you’re not allowed to be seen, never mind flirt or date (guaranteed death, at the hands of your own dear papa no less) with the opposite sex. Most marriages are arranged and it’ll be (whoop-de-doo) your first cousin according to tradition.
So M in fact met someone and chose to get engaged. Progress! Or not. Getting engaged is taken very seriously, she’s basically signed her rights over to the groom-to-be. She is officially off the market and what’s more, he has informed us that she will be quitting her job after the wedding.
I asked her how she felt about the dictum. Not good. She says that she would be terribly bored stuck at home all day. No kidding! It’s not like she can go to the movies…or anything...

As I showed her photos of my family and life 'outside' I realised how crazy exotic it all is. The clean, easy, green, richness of it all. The flagrant joy. Thank you thank you thank you for my life.
I keep telling myself that just because I love to travel, hang out with male and female human beings, feel the breeze on my half naked (ie. T-shirt and shorts) body, have options to choose between (whether that be sushi or Italian, doctor or housewife) doesn’t mean that Afghan women crave the same things.

But then again, maybe they do.